


Stranger Like Me

by thatqrfanficcer



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Disney References, Disney Songs, Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), M/M, Minor Philip Hamilton/OC, Mulan (1998) References, Short(ish) chapters, Single Parent Aaron Burr, Swearing, Trans Male Character, Trans Philip Hamilton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatqrfanficcer/pseuds/thatqrfanficcer
Summary: Philip Hamilton is the transgender son of New York Senator Alexander Hamilton.  Theodosia “Teddy” Burr is the proud feminist daughter of Santa Fe divorce lawyer Aaron Burr.  But when both children are sent to the same camp a few months before their 12th birthday, it’s soon discovered that their pasts may not be as different as they appear.Parent Trap AU but more complicated.  Title brought to you by Tarzan/Phil Collins.





	1. What's Your Name?

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you in part by my dysphoria! This is a concept I've been ~~overcomplicating~~ playing around with for awhile in my head, but after 1) a very Weird Transy Feelings-type day and 2) working diligently on the first chapter of a long-chapter fic for awhile, I decided I needed to write this.
> 
> Expect lots of references to The Parent Trap- Lindsay Lohan version and Mulan/Disney in general ~~I am an adult I swear~~ as well as exploring adultery, parenting, sexuality, gender, politics, and of course, Philip and Theodosia scheming and snark

“What a dumb name,” Philip says when he sees the sign, “‘Better Options.’  That’s not a camp name, that’s a brochure in a shrink’s waiting room.”

Dad laughs indulgently, but Philip can tell he’s forcing it to hide his nerves.  “It’s only for three weeks,” he says, handing him his bags.  They’re heavy, so Dad’s careful to hold them until he’s sure Philip’s got a good grip.

“Three _weeks,”_ he groans as they walk in.

“Well, maybe you should think about that next time you get in a fight.”

“Eacker started it!”

“That’s not what all your friends said.”  He’s going for stern, but the smile he’s hiding kind of undermines it.

“Okay, _maybe_ I punched him first, but if you had only heard the shit he said about you—”

“I think I’ve heard enough to get the idea.”  He’s more successful this time, smile gone.  Philip’s pretty sure that wasn’t just about Eacker.

But he doesn’t want to think about that, so he keeps them on-topic, “I can’t believe I got in trouble in _New Jersey._   I thought everything was legal in New Jersey.”

Dad chuckles at that, for real this time, but it doesn’t work for long before the worry takes over.  “Well now that you’re in Indiana, can you promise me you’ll give this a fair shot like your mom wants you to?”

“Dad—”

“Promise me,” he says, this time looking right in his eyes.

Philip sighs.  “Okay.  I’ll behave.”

“Good.”  He relaxes a bit, but it doesn’t last long.

A camp counselor approaches them.  “Hi!  Welcome to Camp Better Options, a place where troubled youth are given a second chance at—”

Dad cuts her off.  “Yeah, yeah, we don’t need the sales pitch, we’re already here.  Is there any information I need to look over?  Camp policies with fine print I need to read?”

She’s a little taken aback, but quickly recovers.  “Let’s see… what’s your last name?”

“Hamilton,” Dad says quietly. 

(Philip hates the way he says it these days.  He misses when his dad’s name was big and important and full of pride, instead of small with shame like it is now.  Like _he_ is now.)

The counselor looks over her list.  “Ah, Alexandria?”

Oh boy.

Dad’s eyes and jaw harden.  “It’s Philip.”

She checks the list again, confused.  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we have a Philip this year…”

“No, you don’t have an Alexandria Hamilton.  Who’s in charge here?  I need to have a word with them.”

That’s how Philip ends up in a very large and uncomfortable office chair across from a stern-looking old woman making changes to a clunky computer from last century.  (It feels like it’s _taking_ a century.)  He doesn’t know what he’d do without Dad there beside him, holding one of his hands while Philip bites the nails off the other. 

After Dad makes sure all his records are correct, he gives her a lecture on making sure all the counselors know what to call him so the other kids don’t tease him, and the woman promises to adjust the sleeping arrangements so he doesn’t have to be in a girls’ cabin.  Philip’s not completely sure he won’t be misgendered again, but it seemed to be an honest mistake on the camp’s part: not their fault his grandma made the reservation.  (He was relieved when they said it was her, though he felt a bit silly for thinking it would be anyone else.)

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do without Dad for the next three weeks, but he’s more worried about what Dad’s going to do without him.  The new apartment’s not that big, but it still seems like it’ll be lonely with just one person.

For his part, Dad looks pretty reluctant to leave.  “Well, buddy, I guess I should let you go, huh?”

“Yeah.”  They hug for a long time.  “Hey, are you gonna be okay?  You know, by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.”  Dad pulls back to look at him with a smile that’s almost convincing.  “I’ll just be taking advantage of your absence to catch up on work and order Chinese takeout.”

Philip smiles back.  “Eat all the soy you want?”

“Exactly.”  Dad ruffles his hair, not that there’s much of it.  “Be good, okay?  But not too good.  Make ‘em work for it.”

“I will.”

“And don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t.”

“And,” Dad kneels down to his level, says this next bit in a whisper, “Don’t let ‘em reform you too much.  I don’t want you getting in any more fights, but don’t let ‘em take _all_ the fight out of you.”

Philip has to laugh, because Mom was right: they really _are_ too similar for their own good.  They may not look the same, Dad being tan with long straight hair while Philip is dark brown with short tight curls, but they have the same humor, the same fears, and the same fight.  Dad knew just what to say, because Dad gets him in all the ways that matter.

And he knows just what to say back.  “Aw, come on, Dad.  You know I’ll never change.”

Dad grins.  “That’s my boy.”

They do their usual handshake, one more hug for good measure, and he’s gone. 

He’ll be okay.  They’ll be okay.

Won’t they?

* * *

“Do you need any help with your bags, princess?” 

“No, I’m good.”  They’re a little heavy, but Teddy’s a strong girl, and she packed them herself.  She knows what she can handle.

Her dad, always the worrier, isn’t so sure.  “Okay.  And you have everything you need in there?”

“Yes, Dad.  Just like I did when we left the house, and when we got to the airport, and when we got off the plane—”

“All right, all right.”  Dad’s usual smile breaks through the worry— barely, but enough. “It’s only natural for a father to be concerned about his daughter’s first big trip away from home.”

“That’s what you said about me spending Memorial Day Weekend with Juanita’s family last year.”

“It was a long weekend!”

“They live ten minutes away, Dad.”

“So you can understand my concern when you choose a camp that’s over 1,000 _miles_ away from home.”

She can’t argue with that, so she changes the subject slightly, “Well, it wasn’t exactly a choice…”

Dad gives her a look.  “Right, because there were no acceptable disciplinary camps any closer to Santa Fe on the list your school counselor provided.  The list I was generous enough to let you pick from after you got yourself in trouble in the first place.”

Oh, he’s in lecture-mode again.  Might as well get this part over with.  “It’s not my fault Mr. Dictator hates me for outsmarting him.”

“Mr. _DiCamillo_ was mad at you for hacking the school computers and changing the whole class’s grades.  I still don’t know why you dragged them all into it, by the way.  Of course, it was wrong regardless, but if you had stuck to yourself and your friends, it would’ve at least been less of a mess.”

He still doesn’t get it.  “We were _all_ victims of DiCamillo’s oppressive reign, Daddy,” Teddy explains (again), “How could I properly challenge an unfair system if I discriminated unfairly myself?  It wouldn’t be right.”  

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.  “Theodosia,” he says calmly, “I know you and your teacher didn’t always see eye to eye, but I expected better of you.  I won’t go on about it, what’s done is done, but now that you’re here, I need you to remember what I’ve always taught you.”

Teddy sighs.  “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should?”

“Good, and?”

“There’s a difference between being clever and being wise?”

That’s the one, she can see it on his face.  “Good.  And I don’t mean making wisecracks.  Now I can handle them, myself, but as long as you’re under the care of these counselors—”

“Talk less, smile more?”  She sweetens her voice at the end and gives him her best smile, hoping it’s cute enough to forgive the interruption.

“That’s right.”  It works a little too well; now he looks kind of wistful.  “God, I’m gonna miss you.”

The moment is quickly interrupted by a camp counselor, so Dad packs away the sadness for later and puts on his “talking to strangers” face.  “Hi!  Welcome to Camp Better Options, a place where troubled youth are given a second chance at innocence.  Here, we teach them how to channel their negative energy through positive outlets and show them there are always alternatives to bad behavior.”

The speech is even cornier than the name, but her dad’s eyes seem very determined not to roll as he smiles and nods through it all, so Teddy does her best to look polite.

“Today is the first day of your child’s journey to redemption.  Congratulations on being selected for our program, and thank you for joining us.”

“What can I say?  I’m honored,” Dad says dryly.  Teddy chokes back a giggle.

The counselor smiles in a smug way, oblivious.  “The honor is all ours.  What’s the lucky lady’s name?”

“Burr.  Theodosia Burr.”

She finds it on the roster and proceeds with an overview she’s probably given a hundred other kids before.  Dad turns on the charm as he asks her questions, putting her at ease enough to get the truth.  She still sugarcoats a little, as adults do, but overall it seems like a pretty okay place, and her dad is reassured by the time she leaves them to say their goodbyes.

But dads will still be dads.  “You packed enough clothes, right?”

“Yes, plus extra underwear, extra socks, PJs, jackets, and an extra pair of shoes.  And I decided to pack shorts and pants instead of my skirts and dresses because we’re going to be out in the woods and I don’t want them to get dirty.”

“And you’re okay without them?”

Truthfully, she’ll miss her dresses, almost as much as she’ll miss the home she left them in and the man who bought them for her.  Leaving them was like leaving a piece of herself behind, but, “I’ll be okay.  I’ll have them intact when I get back, and besides, it’s important to show the counselors that I’m willing to adapt to their environment.”

“That’s my girl.”

She _is_ his girl, from her features (the shape of her eyes and nose, the dark brown skin, the small tight curls that took forever to grow to her waist) to her smarts, her independence, her persuasiveness, and even her sass (though he’d never admit it).  He taught her everything she knows, and she’s suddenly overcome with the urge to hug him.

Dad hugs her tightly back and whispers, “I have a surprise for you when we get home.”

“What surprise?” she asks as she pulls back, suddenly excited.

“You’ll have to wait for it,” he says with a smile.

“Are you finally letting me get my ears pierced?!”

“Maybe.”

He’s _teasing_ her, and it’s not fair.  That’s fine, two can play at that game.  “Okay.  Maybe I’ll just have to get it done at camp instead.”

“You will not,” Dad says, back to stern, “Do you have any idea the likelihood of infection?  Not to mention excessive bleeding if you don’t have it done properly.”

“Well, if I knew I was _going_ to have it done properly, I wouldn’t _have_ to take the risk.”

“You don’t _have to_ take the risk anyway.  Plenty of girls your age don’t have their ears pierced.”

“Maybe,” she says, smiling sweet again, “but not all of them are as close to their parents as we are.  Come on, I thought we were best friends.”

That’s when he knows she’s teasing him back, so he’s not quite as stern when he says, “Teddy, remember what I always say.  Father first…”

“Friend second,” she finishes. They both know this script by now, and she knows, but it’s still fun to needle him every now and then.

He knows she knows, so he lets it go and softens a little.  “Tell you what: if you behave yourself while you’re here, I’ll think about it.”

That’s always his answer.  “Of course I’ll behave myself.  They don’t have any technology from this century anyway, so I’ll be far away from temptation.”

“Good.”  He kind of looks like he wants to hug her again, but he doesn’t.  “Will you write me a letter every day?”

“No.”  That came out more blunt than she meant it, so she adds, “I think a weekly update will be sufficient.”

He frowns.  “Three letters?”

“Maybe six.  Maybe a bi-weekly update.  I’ll think about it.”

Dad goes quiet.  At first she thinks she’s in for a lecture about the comeback, but then he falters, and she realizes he’s struggling to find his next words, his parting words.  She thought she was ready for this, but it only now hits her that this is the last thing she’ll hear from him for the next three weeks.

He settles on, “I love you, princess.  Be safe.”

It’s enough.  It’s more than enough. 

“I will.  Love you too, Daddy.”

She hopes that will be enough, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, if you so choose. I'm also at @[thatqrfanblogger](https://thatqrfanblogger.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


	2. Count to Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip and Teddy struggle to find their place in their new cabins, albeit for very different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered having them meet in this chapter, but this part needed to happen first.

Philip is the eleventh member of a ten-person cabin.

The counselors try to sell it as a gift.  “Good news, Lions!” their supervisor Ryan says, “Thanks to some last-minute arrangements, we’ve got a bonus brother in our family!”

But reality hits once they get there.  You can’t bullshit your way around five bunk beds.

Not wanting to be too much trouble, Philip offers to sleep on the floor, choosing the spot right in the middle between the rows of beds so the other boys don’t feel threatened.  He’s almost wishing he could hide under one of the beds instead when another boy — the tall, cute one — decides to sleep on the floor, too.  After a moment, another boy joins him, followed by another and another until the floor is full and the beds are empty and he feels a little less like an intruder, a little less alone.

Then the boy in the backwards ball cap sits in front of him, sizes him up with an ugly smirk, and the feelings come back in full panic mode.  The others follow his lead, gather around Philip until the lions surround the prey.

“So,” Ball Cap says, “How’d you get in here, bonus boy?”

Okay.  So maybe he doesn’t fit in, not yet at least.  But he knows how to rise to a challenge. 

“Oh,” he says coolly, puffing his chest out a bit, “My dad’s really powerful.  He made sure they got me in.”

A boy in a dragon T-shirt mutters to one of the others, “Rich boy.  Figures.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Philip asks.

Dragon-Shirt looks like he wasn’t expecting Philip to respond, and quickly looks down at his thumbs.  “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Powerful how?” Ball Cap asks, raising an eyebrow, “What’s your dad do?”

Philip’s about to tell him, but then he realizes three things:

One: his dad’s a little _too_ famous right now.  If even one of them knows who his dad is, that could turn into a whole thing, and Philip doesn’t think he can listen to them rake him through the mud without breaking his promise.

Two: _he’s_ famous.  If they know about his dad, they’ll probably know about him, too.  About what he is.

He doesn’t regret coming out as a boy, not for a second.  Not when _being_ out as a boy is the best thing in the world, bad press and all.  His name was gonna be in the news anyway, so why not make them use the right one?

But here, he’s far away from all that.  Here, there’s a chance they don’t know who he is.  What he is.

Three: this might be his only shot to be normal for a change.

And he almost threw it away trying to sound impressive.  Shit.

The other boys’ eyes are on him, expecting an answer.  He’s gotta think of something to say.  (He’s already said too much.)

He settles for saying as little as possible.  “He works in politics.”

 _“Where_ in politics?”  Damn, Ball Cap is relentless.

“High places.  Important places.”  Philip pauses for a minute, then dramatically whispers, _“Secret_ places.”

“So no one’s heard of him, then.  Convenient.”

He swallows his pride and reminds himself that this means he’s safe.  “It’s actually very _in_ convenient,” he says, going along with it, “Since I can’t tell you and all.”

“I bet he knows everything about everyone,” the tall, cute one pipes up, “He probably has a bunch of insider information about the other candidates, huh?”  He winks at Philip and smiles, revealing dimples on both cheeks.

“Yeah,” Philip says, too distracted to think of anything else.  (He’s so handsome.)

“Right,” Ball Cap says, reclaiming Philip’s attention, “So what’d _you_ do to get in here, then?”

“Oh, that.”  Philip grins big.  This, he can talk about.  “I started a fight.”

The circle erupts with a mixture of surprised sounds, impressed noises, and some laughter, but Ball Cap shuts them up so Philip can tell his story.  He starts with punching Eacker in the face for talking shit, hoping they won’t ask what he said, and keeps the focus on the action: who punched who next, who got thrown to the ground and got a really big bruise after, and who kneed who in the groin and pinned him down like the little bitch he is.  When he’s done, even Ball Cap regards him with a grudging sort of respect, and introduces himself as Eric.

The cute one quickly introduces himself as Caleb, and then everyone’s naming themselves, which makes things a lot easier.  Dragon-Shirt is Owen, then there’s Han, Micah, Benny, and Garcia.  One guy says, “They call me Smart Fingers,” somewhat convincingly.  Then the chubby one says, “They call me Fist,” way less convincingly.  The last one to introduce himself is the biggest and the quietest, and says only, “Call me Blue.  I like blue.”  (No one needs convincing on that one.)

Then everyone’s sharing stories, which soon turns into a contest of who can outdo the last boy and come off sounding the most badass.  The truth probably gets lost pretty quickly, or at least most of it, but Philip doesn’t care.  He loves all the stories anyway, from Eric’s elaborate plot to set up a paint bucket over a door to pour over an unsuspecting teacher, to Smart Fingers stealing the newest iPhone from a fancy tech store and getting chased by store security until he was tackled and tasered, to Micah’s hilariously short story of accidentally getting high… maybe.

“What did it feel like, being high on glue?” Philip asks.

“Yeah dude, what’d you do next?” Eric asks.

“I don’t remember,” Micah says, “I sniffed so much of it I blacked out.”  He laughs, and everyone else does, too.

The only one he doesn’t like comes from Benny, who brags about touching a girl inappropriately.  Eric’s impressed, but Caleb is having none of it.

“Well, what’d _you_ do, tough guy?” Benny challenges.

Caleb gives him a death glare.  “I beat up a little punk for messing with my sister.”

Benny backs off.  “Oh.”

(Caleb is perfect.)

All in all, his first night’s not half as bad as he was expecting.

So he’s the “bonus boy” in the Lions cabin.  So what?  At least he’s here, and he’s got a chance to prove himself.

Beats being stuck with the girls.

* * *

Good news: the Juniper cabin is an easily-walkable distance from the main gathering area while being far enough away to get some peace and quiet when necessary.

Bad news: Teddy’s cabin is named after a stupid _tree._

If it were just her cabin, she could deal with that, but she’s noticed a trend.  All the girls’ cabins are named for some kind of plant: Hemlock, Holly, Cedar, Sunflower, Daisy.  One of the cabins is just called Berry, like they couldn’t be bothered to be specific.  Boys get to be animals: mammals, birds, even reptiles.  Active, animated, moving, engaging.  Always changing and always making change.  Meanwhile, girls are getting stuck with the florae.  Passive, pretty.  Always in their place.

“I really don’t think it’s that deep, Teddy,” says Polly, the cabinmate who sleeps in curlers and the self-declared leader, even though their supervisor Julie is perfectly adequate, “They just needed a simple way to distinguish the two, that’s all.”

“Just because it’s not _intentionally_ misogynistic doesn’t mean it’s not a problem,” Teddy counters, “They shouldn’t perpetuate stereotypes just because it’s easy.”  She can see Polly and some of the others tuning her out, but she can’t stop herself in these moments, caught up in the need to make them _understand._  “If the _adults_ are condoning the idea that girls are passive and pretty and don’t know how to protect ourselves, who’s to stop the boys from thinking it’s okay to see us that way?”

“Us,” says Rae, the brawny girl with a buzz cut and a piercing on her lower lip, “Not that I care what the boys think anyway.  As long as I don’t have to be a flower.”

“I like flowers,” mumbles Mei, the petite one braiding her hair in the cabin’s only full-length mirror.

“This isn’t about what flora or fauna we do or don’t want to be,” Teddy persists, “This is about having the opportunity to be whatever we want.”

A girl snorts from next to the open window.  “Honey, this place is just boot camp with more fake smiles and forced bonding.  Ain’t no one cares what we want.”  It’s the one that calls herself Country, who somehow snuck cigarettes past the search.  Teddy tries not to get too close to the smell, or think too hard about how she must have hidden them.

“Maybe not,” Teddy says stubbornly, “But why _else_ would they make girls be trees and flowers rather than mammals and reptiles?”

No one has an answer, until Nellie, the one with freckles and large glasses, puts down her book.

“Junipers live an average of 350 to 700 years, with some even living to be 1,000 or more.  The oldest known juniper is the Scofield Juniper in Sierra Nevada, which lived to be 2,675 years old.”

“And we care because…?” Polly asks.

“On average, women live around 4.3 years longer than men.  Most trees live longer than most animals.  So maybe we’re separated that way because the girls are more resilient.”

The girls ooh and ahh and laugh appreciatively at this answer, and the issue is put to rest. 

For the most part, Teddy does like her cabin.  It’s a bit smaller than the others, as a last-minute change left them with nine instead of ten, but nine is plenty.  On the first night, the girls speculated about what their tenth girl must have done to get kicked out, or perhaps pardoned, which turned into a conversation about what each of them did to get there.

Polly stole a girl’s wig and flushed it down the toilet, a prank she seemed a little too proud of for Teddy’s liking.  Rae punched a boy for “getting all up in her space,” surprising no one.  Mei got in a tooth-and-claw catfight with another girl, surprising everyone, but after she shyly showed the still-healing scratch under the back of her neck, no one questioned it.  Country said she’s done plenty that she hasn’t been caught for, but she’s in for a till trick that went badly.

Then Jordin said she wore a short skirt to school, and the conversation changed again.  Ciara chimed in with her own story about her school punishing her for her dreadlocks, which prompted Hannah’s story about her Christian parents freaking out over her cutting her hair short, all of which were meant with a heartening amount of sympathy and commiserating about the unfairness of the system. 

Nellie’s in for standing in front of a tree that was supposed to be cut down, since her city wanted to replace the local park with a parking lot.  “I stood there every day until the construction workers went home,” she said, “I followed every law to the letter.”

“Then how did you end up here?” Teddy asked.

“Truancy.  I thought my parents would understand, being the environmentalists that they are, but they were just disappointed that I skipped school and didn’t tell them.  That’s the only part I regret: disappointing them.”

“You’ll gain their trust back,” Teddy told her.  She’s not sure about the others, but she’s confident about Nellie’s chances.

“I know.  I’m very trustworthy.  And I’m usually good about respecting authority figures.  It’s just that if they’re doing something wrong, or letting something wrong be done, we have to challenge them.  Remind them that they need to respect us, too.”

So far, Nellie is her favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've... tentatively decided to rate this story as Teen. In truth, I'm aiming to have this story be PG, or PG before PG-13 was invented maybe, where there's some adult humor but it's not _in_ appropriate for kids, or (Upper?) Middle Grade. The camp part is mostly fine apart from some language, but there's some heavier, more adult themes coming up later that might tip the scales or be more of a gray area. I'm pretty much assuming most people on ao3 are old enough to handle this stuff anyway, but just in case, I don't want to advertise this as being more innocent than it actually is.
> 
> Anyways! Hope you liked this chapter, feel free to let me know by leaving kudos or a comment, or you can send me an ask on my tumblr at [thatqrfanblogger](https://thatqrfanblogger.tumblr.com/). Thanks to everyone who's supported this so far, love you and I will hopefully update the next chapter soon so we can finally see these two interact!


	3. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip proves to be the best fencer in his cabin and finally feels at home with the other boys. That is, until he meets his match.
> 
> Alternatively, Teddy proves that girls can fight too, and puts a very rude boy in his place.

According to the counselors, the goal of the camp is to “provide a healthier outlet” through a series of hobbies and activities.  Today, at least from 2-3:30 pm, the latest activity Ryan’s signed the Lions up for is fencing.

So if you hit someone with your fist, it’s “acting out,” but if you hit someone with a foil, it’s fine.  Philip’s not sure how that’s supposed to make sense, but the important thing is that he’s winning.

“Ha!” he says, delivering the final blow to the belly.

Eric curses, earning a soft reprimand from Ryan, but when they shake hands, Eric doesn’t seem to hold his victory against him.  “Not bad, bonus boy.”

“Thanks.”

“All right!” says the fencing director, a woman named Deb who seems tough despite being not much taller than Philip, “Anyone who hasn’t gone, raise your hand.  Is there anyone who hasn’t gone?”

There are three left: Caleb, Garcia, and the fat one that goes by Fist.  Fist volunteers by saying, “Let’s get this over with,” and since he’s still winded from the walk over here, Philip ends his misery as quickly and painlessly as possible.  Next is Garcia, bookish and weedy but surprisingly scrappy on the field, using skinniness and speed to his advantage by dodging most of Philip’s attempts, and even getting a blow in himself before Philip finishes him off.

Then there’s Caleb.

Caleb stands in front of him with a smile, warm brown eyes fully focused on him.  “Guess it’s just you and me, huh?”

“Guess so,” Philip whispers with a tentative smile of his own.

Caleb nods, smile fading into something more serious, like determination.  “May the best man win.”

“You’re on,” Philip says with a grin.

They don their masks and duel.  It’s easier to focus when he’s not distracted by his face, which is good, because Caleb is hard enough to beat already.  There’s a strength and ease to his movements, a steady, sure way that he handles the foil, that Philip both envies and admires, and he finds himself going on the defensive more this time around, blocking and dodging and ducking the way Garcia did before.  But Philip is faster still, and once he regains control, he’s able to predict Caleb’s moves and surprise him.  Caleb praises every good move Philip makes, which makes him giddy until he starts to wonder if Caleb’s letting him win, a question that troubles him until he starts to wonder if Caleb’s using good sportsmanship to catch _him_ off-guard and decides to ignore the compliments and focus again. 

The sportsmanship seems sincere, though, once Philip’s finally won, a victory that feels better and more earned than all the rest combined.

“Good game,” Caleb says, taking his mask off and smiling at him again.

“You too,” Philip says, belatedly remembering to take his mask off, too.  “You were amazing,” he adds when he offers his hand.

“Not as amazing as you.”  Caleb grips it firmly, his hand big and strong and warm, shakes once, and lets go too soon, his callouses scratching Philip’s palm as he does.

Deb the fencing director takes his hand and holds it up in the air.  “All right, looks like Philip is the cabin champ!”

He is? 

He is.  Wow.  He never actually thought he’d beat everyone in his cabin.

(Okay, technically he didn’t: the first round was Blue wildly swinging his foil around until the director disqualified him, which would have made Philip feel bad for his opponent, if that opponent hadn’t been Benny, and hadn’t won that round by default.  But Philip had gotten Benny fair and square the next round, and all the other victories were his own.)

His cabinmates cheer and clap for him _(him)_ and Philip feels so full he could burst.

He should’ve known the feeling wouldn’t last.

Trouble approaches in the form of a girls’ cabin.

“Hi!” their counselor says, “Sorry we’re late, breaktime at the cabin ran a little long today.”

Eric turns to the other boys and mutters, “Why, did one of them have a hair disaster?”  The other boys snicker, so Philip forces a little laugh himself, even though he’s not sure he gets the joke.

“Julie!” Ryan says, or more accurately _squeaks,_ before he coughs and says in an unnaturally low voice, “What are you doing here?  Come by to see us?”

(Philip’s not sure whether to laugh or cringe, it’s so bad.  Judging by his cabinmates exchanging looks, he’s not the only one to notice.)

Julie puts on a smile that reminds him of Aunt Angelica.  “No, I booked the Junipers for fencing actually, from 2:30-3.”

Ryan laughs.  “That’s impossible.  We’ve got that time slot until 3:30.  Maybe you read the numbers wrong?”

“Actually,” Deb cuts in, “Julie is right.  We booked each of you for half an hour.”

“That was a _2?_   Let me see that.”  Ryan looks at the schedule.  “Hold on, no you didn’t.  You’ve got _us_ booked until 2:30, then you’ve got Julie’s cabin booked until 3:30.”

“No, we—”  Deb checks again.  “Oh, would you look at that.  I guess we did.  Sorry about that.”

“See, how is that fair?  They’re getting twice the time we are.”

“It’s half an hour _less_ than _you_ thought you were getting,” Julie says.

As they bicker, Philip starts to feel uneasy.  He glances back at his cabinmates.  A few seem to share his discomfort, but most of them are either bored or unbothered by the conflict.  He sneaks a glance at the girls, but when one meets his gaze directly, he quickly turns away and hopes no one noticed. 

(It’s stupid, he shouldn’t be scared by the _presence_ of girls his age, he’s _not_ scared of girls his age, he’s not scared of _anyone,_ but he wasn’t expecting the Battle of the Sexes today and the last thing he wants is to get caught up in the middle of it.)

Finally, the fencing director interrupts the counselors, “Tell you what: why don’t we let the Lions keep it until 2:45, then the Junipers can have the rest of the time, and each of you gets 45 minutes.”

But half apparently isn’t enough for either of them.

“While what, we watch helplessly on the sidelines during half of _our_ time slot?” Julie grumbles.

“Considering how much of that time we’ve been spending on bickering, could you maybe give us until 2:50?  I’d hate to have the boys miss out because of all this infighting.”

“Well,” one of the girls butts in, “What if we all shared the space until 3, and then the boys leave and the girls have it to ourselves until 3:30?  That way, both of us get an hour.”

The other girls nod and make noises of agreement, but the boys laugh.  Once again, Philip joins them a second too late, though they don’t seem to notice.  (What’s so funny?)

“Yeah, right,” Eric hollers to the Junipers, “Like any of you could take _us_ in a fight.  They have us separated for a reason?”

(Oh.)

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” another girl says, hidden from view behind a bigger girl. 

(That voice, it’s… there’s something about it, almost like he’s heard it before.  Where has he heard it before?)

“What do you think?” Benny joins in, “Boys are stronger than girls, everyone knows that.  It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You think you’re stronger than me, punk?” the bigger girl threatens, “I could take you with my eyes closed.  I could take all of you right now.”

“Settle down, Rae,” Julie cuts back in, going back over to stand in front of her, “There’s no need to resort to violence.  But, Nellie has made an interesting proposition here, and I think it’s a pretty good one.  What about you, Ryan?”

Philip turns to him, his last hope, silently pleads with him, _No, please no, I don’t want this, I don’t want them here, please just make this go away, make them go away._

“Well, I do have my doubts about it,” Ryan says, “My cabin’s gotten a little more practice, and I wouldn’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt if one of mine happened to win.”

(Thank God.)

“I see,” Julie says flatly, “And I suppose you have a better idea?”

 _“I_ have a better idea,” says the girl with the strangely familiar voice, “Why don’t we settle it with a duel?  One of ours vs. one of yours.  If we win, you boys have to leave.  If you win, we’ll leave.”

Julie suddenly looks as nervous as Philip feels.  “Teddy, I don’t know if that’s—”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ryan interjects, like a traitor.

“Oh _really?”_

“Yeah.  Really.”  He smiles.  “Unless… you don’t think your girls are up to the challenge.”

Julie’s expression turns to steel.  “You know what?  Fine.”  She forces another smile and turns to the girl.  “And since you suggested it, Teddy, I suppose you’d like to do the honors?”

“My pleasure.”

As she steps out from the crowd, she tosses her long mane of hair out of her face.  But before Philip can get a good look, he hears his cabinmates taunt her.

“Good luck beating Philip!” Caleb says, “He’s a better fighter than all of us put together.  You don’t stand a chance.”

“Yeah,” Eric adds, “If he can beat me, he’s gonna annihilate a chick.”

Even Owen pipes up with, “Get her, Philip.  We believe in you.”

He smiles back at them, but he kind of wishes they believed in him a little less.

The girl ignores them, instead ducking her head to tie her hair back into a ponytail.  Her cabinmates chime in with their own supportive comments, so she turns around to thank them, but she soon turns back to face Philip head-on and—

And suddenly, Philip is face-to-face with the girl version of himself.

* * *

Teddy is not a violent person.  Her father taught her the basics of self-defense, of course, should she ever need to use it, but he also taught her the importance of staying out of trouble altogether.  So while she’s more than happy to playfight with the best of the boys, she’s not one to get involved in actual physical conflict, and certainly not one to pick fights unnecessarily.

Some fights, however, are necessary.

Teddy may not be a violent person, but she’ll be darned if she doesn’t get a chance to defend herself.  She may be her daddy’s princess, but she is not, nor has ever been a damsel in distress. 

And if that’s all the boys think the girls can be, then it’s up to Teddy to prove them wrong.

“Don’t listen to them, Teddy,” Nellie says, “They’re just trying to psych you out.  This is yours to win.”

“Show ‘em, girl,” Rae says.

“Give ‘em hell!” Country shouts, grinning when Julie shoots her a look.  (Teddy’s not sure if she wanted to encourage her or just wanted the excuse to say that.  “Both” is a strong possibility.)

Most seem to be in agreement, though notably Polly and Mei are quiet.  Well, not notable in Mei’s case, but Polly didn’t want to fence in the first place, so Teddy’s not entirely sure _she_ wants to see her win, either.  It doesn’t matter, Teddy thanks the group anyway and ignores the silence, instead turning her attention to her opponent.

The first thing she sees is his eyes, wide and panicked, like he’s seen a ghost.  It’s only then that Teddy feels hesitant to fight.

“Are you okay?” she asks him, “Do you want someone else to go in your place?”

“No,” he says defensively, but his eyes still look petrified.

“Are you sure?  You don’t look… like…”

That’s when the second thing hits her, and she _sees_ it.  He bears an uncanny resemblance to her, or perhaps her father, the same eyes and nose and—

“What’re you lookin’ at?”  This time, the defensiveness overtakes the fear completely, and her face — no, _his_ face — turns fierce.  She knows it’s not her reflection, but it’s hard not to feel like...

“Like looking in a mirror,” she breathes.

“What?!” the boy says, in what almost sounds like her voice, except the octave is much higher than she’s ever heard it.  Then he laughs in her face, harsh and ugly and slightly unhinged, and asks, “What did you just say?”

“Don’t you see it?” she asks, now at normal volume, “The resemblance between us?”

The laughter is gone now, replaced with a sneer.  “Let’s see: your chin is too round, your mouth is too small, your teeth are too crooked, your nose is too big—”

“I beg your _pardon—”_

His mouth stretches into a wide, _evil_ grin.  (His teeth aren’t _that_ much straighter than hers.)  “Hang on, I haven’t gotten to your eyebrow yet—”

The boys roar with laughter while the girls gasp.  Teddy’s face burns, and she finds herself grateful that her color hides it.

“Philip…” one of the adults warns, Teddy doesn’t know which.

“Whatever, there’s no point getting into all the differences,” he says, smile disappearing as quick as it came, “Point is, you and me?  Nothing in common.”

 _“Clearly,”_ Teddy huffs, “I don’t know who raised you to act that way, but—”

“No, you don’t,” the boy snaps, angry all of a sudden (as if _he_ has the right), “My father raised a man who knows how to fight.  And just because you _look_ like a man doesn’t mean you know how to take one.”

She does not.  She does _not._   Okay, maybe her hands are a little bigger than most girls’, but that doesn’t—

Wait.  Breathe.  He’s just trying to rattle her. 

Well, two can play at that game.

“I hope you’re not referring to yourself,” she says, standing up straight and proud like her dad always taught her to do, “Because all I see is a little boy lashing out because he’s afraid I’ll beat him and hurt his fragile ego.”

She gets some laughter from the girls and some “ohhhs” from the boys, but the only reaction she’s interested in is the boy in front of her, who now looks determined. 

“I’m not scared to fight some little _girl_ who doesn’t know her place.”

That’s it.  Teddy’s ending this.

“Right now, my _place_ is on the dueling ground.”  She turns to the fencing director.  “Hand me that foil, please.”

“You’re going down.”  Her opponent dons his mask.

“We’ll see about that,” she says as the woman hands her her equipment.

Once the two are equipped, armed, and ready, the director goes over the rules.  “All right!  When I give the go-ahead, you will try to score against your opponent by landing touches on their torso.  That means no aiming for the neck or head, no aiming below the waist, and touches to the arms will not count.  A touch is made only with the tip of the foil, any touches made with the side of the blade also do not count.  The first contestant to get three touches will be the winner.  There will be no bodily contact, no wild swinging of the sword, and please try to keep your touches light so as not to permanently damage your opponent or the equipment.  Any questions?”

Both shake their heads.

“Okay!  En garde… Ready… Fence!”

Philip swings first, but Teddy blocks.  He won’t get her that easy.

He aims for her again, and again, but she meets him swing for swing.  It’s a shame he’s so predictable, makes her kind of wish he was more of a challenge so that when she beats him it’s actually—

The foil pokes her stomach.  He leaves it there longer than he needs to, a wordless gloat.  Touché.

Well, it’s only the first shot.  They’re back at it soon enough, and she won’t let her guard down this time.

Philip gets her on the defensive again, always making the first move, making her block, and moving closer to her each time, forcing her to step back.  He leads her around in circles, and she’s starting to wonder if she made a mistake.  Like his jerk of a counselor said, he _has_ had more practice, and it shows.  Not just in the way he dominates the ring, but in his confidence that he owns it.

The ring.  That’s it.

How many of Philip’s matches have been outside of it?

Are they allowed outside of it?

First rule of law: always pay close attention to the words.  Not just the words that are being said, but the words that aren’t.  The director had told them not to hit _each_ _other_ outside designated areas, but she never said anything about location.

She blocks him again, focuses on the foe in front of her, but she steals quick glances back at the woods behind them.  She knows her way around trees, and there’s one with a branch low enough for her to grab and climb if she can just get to it.  If she can just lead him there.

Another jab, to the shoulder she hadn’t been looking over.  Gosh-darn it.  He’s too close.

“First rule of fencing: don’t take your eyes off your opponent,” he gloats, repeating her own thoughts back at her as if he read them.  Which is ridiculous, of course he can’t read her mind, it’s just a coincidence.

“Dumbass,” he adds. 

In the background, there’s laughter and scolding, but Teddy tunes it out: she’s got a plan.

Lulled into a false sense of security already, the boy moves with flourishes now, bigger and far easier to counter, but more exciting for his audience.  Teddy plays along, walking backwards as if she’s shrinking back in fear, even blocking as if frantic, as if his showboating isn’t impeding his swordsmanship.  He takes the bait, letting her lead him closer to the tree.  Once he’s hooked, she quickens, taking larger steps back, then running sideways, foil still meeting his beat for beat.  He runs after her, movements less confident now as he struggles to keep pace with her, determined to keep control.

Once her free hand touches the tree, she backs into it, letting him think he has her cornered.  Then, when he goes in for the kill, she slips behind the tree, which he stabs instead.

“Run away to hide?” he taunts through his frustration.

“No.”  She pops out and pokes his exposed chest, her first touch.  “Just leading you to the slaughter.” 

She grabs the branch of the tree and pulls herself up for the next round.  “See if you can beat me up here.”

Unable to resist, he climbs up after her, chasing her until she’s found the last solid branch, safely in the middle, where she perches while his foil tries to find hers from down below, his hold on his own branch far less stable.

Then a whistle sounds, followed by the fencing director’s voice, “Both of you, out of the trees.  I need to be able to see you.”

First rule of childhood: the adults are always right.  Oh well.

Still, she sees a rock with a flat surface not too far away.  She throws her foil next to it so it sticks in the grass, dangles from her perch until her feet can meet the ground safely, and once she’s landed, decides to show off a little by cartwheeling her way back to her weapon, which she pulls off effortlessly.

Not to be outdone, Philip drops to the ground after her, then throws his foil in the air and does a running leap to catch it.  He’s not very graceful, but he does succeed, and though he fumbles with it when he lands, he doesn’t drop it, so she has to give him props.

She gets atop the rock and resumes the battle on higher ground, this time putting him on the defensive.  He circles around her with less certainty this time, and she leads his moves higher and higher until she realizes he’s left his stomach wide open, and surprises him with a low jab.

There.  Now they’re even.

The side of his blade hits her elbow and before she’s registered the hit, he’s out of range.  She feels it a second later, not pain but a strange mix of tingly and hollow throughout her arm.  But it’s not her sword arm and it’s not as strong as her resolve as she jumps off the rock to chase the boy, who stands watching her with his arms spread wide, daring her to react.

The director repeats the rules, reminds them that only touches to the torso count.  There’s also something about civility in there, but Teddy doesn’t listen to that part.  _She_ doesn’t need to.

She juts her foil at his chest, his foil meets it and deflects it away.

“You really shouldn’t leave yourself open like that.”  Teddy jabs at him again, he circles his arm and repeats his deflection.  “Since I’m so close to beating you.”  Jab, circle, deflect.

“No, you’re not.  _I’m_ the one who’s close to beating _you.”_   Jab, circle, deflect.  He’s backing up, and she follows, but checks behind him for potential advantages.  “I just let you have those last two.”

Jab, circle, deflect.  “Well, that was stupid of you,” she says.

He glares at her, but has to block again before he can come up with anything.  The director is watching them still, but they’re behind the other spectators now, not too far from the path the Junipers took to get there.  Fortunately, the only thing behind her opponent is a bench and a trash can, which they’re quickly approaching.

She baits him again, “If beating me would be so easy, why not just do it when you had the chance, instead of making yourself look foolish?” 

She aims low, to surprise him, but he’s too quick for her this time. 

He shrugs.  “More of a show.  It’s more fun that way.”  He climbs atop the bench.  “Beat _this,”_ he says, now going for the attack.

Teddy has another plan.

“My pleasure,” she says with a block.

Teddy positions herself carefully while Philip is led down the bench.  When she has a wide enough opening, she joins him on it, lands right in front of him.  They go back and forth for a bit, but soon Teddy regains control, and this time when she backs him up, there’s a split-second where he stumbles on the edge, hesitates, and it’s all she needs to deliver the final blow.

Which lands him into the trash can, where he belongs.

That was mean.  Perhaps she ought to feel bad for him.

Then she remembers her elbow, her still-tingling arm, and decides he doesn’t deserve her compassion.

“You were right.”  She smiles at him as he climbs his way out.  “That _was_ fun.”

“Fuck off.”  He drops his foil in front of her, rather unceremoniously. 

“No thank you.”

The director comes over to collect their weapons (from Teddy, who picks Philip’s up for him while he recovers) and leads them back to the ring.  Teddy is declared the winner, which means the girls get to stay.  But before Teddy can face her cabinmates in battle, the director has her take off her gear along with Philip.

“The most important part of fencing is sportsmanship,” she says sternly, “Now shake hands.”

Teddy holds her hand out.  Philip hesitates.

“Go on,” the director urges.

He sighs and begrudgingly grabs her hand.  As he does, she feels more than the slap of his palm and the grip of his fingers, she feels… recognition.  She _knows_ this hand somehow, almost as if it were her own.

And he must feel the same strange sort of connection that she does, because his eyes meet hers at the same time she looks up—

But Philip breaks the link abruptly, pulls his hand back and leaves her to wonder what the heck just happened.

“Damn, bonus boy, what happened?” the one in the baseball cap says.

“Yeah,” says his friend, “So much for best fighter.  You got your ass handed to you by a _girl,_ man.  Pa- _thet-_ ic.”

The other boys laugh, and Philip looks equal parts angry and uncomfortable.

She ought to let it go.  It’s what her father would do.

But he’s not here right now.

“It _is_ pathetic,” Teddy says, “Pathetic that you’re still standing there claiming a girl is inherently inferior when not a single one of the rest of you had the guts to challenge one.  But why don’t I give you another chance?  If one of you wants to prove me wrong, prove my victory was a fluke and you’re the better fighter, then I’m more than willing to do a rematch.  So go on.  Rise to the challenge.”

Now it’s their turn to look uncomfortable.  None of the boys even seem willing to meet her eyes, apart from Philip’s quizzical look and a tall boy who’s glaring at her for some reason.

“Deal’s a deal,” the one in the ball cap mumbles after a minute, “We said we’d leave if the chick won, so we gotta leave.  No rematches allowed.”

The others murmur in agreement and turn to go.

“That’s what I thought,” Teddy says.

She’s satisfied, but Rae piles on, “Hey, is your cabin from _The Wizard of Oz_?  ‘Cause it looks like you’re all a bunch of cowardly Lions!”

It’s not a great joke, but the other girls giggle along anyway.  The boys have nothing to say, the shame on their faces says it all.

Except Philip, who looks between his cabinmates gathering to go and Teddy’s cabinmates’ laughter, looks like he’s contemplating something, until the determination is back and he steps right up to Rae and yells back in her face, “At least our cabin’s not named after a stupid tree!”

She _told_ them.  She _told_ them the cabin names mattered.

Teddy looks right over at Polly, but Polly still won’t admit defeat and just rolls her eyes.  The rest of the girls look similarly unfazed, and even Rae scoffs at Philip instead of getting angry.

Okay.  Perhaps they were right.  Perhaps it doesn’t matter as much as Teddy thought it did.

“Come on, Philip,” says the tall boy who was glaring at Teddy earlier, “Let’s go.”  He puts his arm around him and leads him away with the rest, and Philip softens a little as he follows.

“All right, ladies!”  Julie calls Teddy’s attention away from the boys and back to business.  “Now that we have the ring to ourselves, who’s up first?”

“Teddy should go, since she won the last round,” Rae says, “But let’s see how she does against a real fighter.”

The adults agree that Rae should go, since she’s been eager to fight for a while, and Teddy is more than happy to challenge her.  _She’s_ not scared.

The players are set.

And the fight begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy procrastination Batman! So I really have no excuse for how late this chapter is, apart from the usual (work, mental health weirdness, life, etc etc). I will say I was nervous to write the fight scene, as they are not my strong suit, but hopefully I did okay, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out.
> 
> I will be continuing this story, but I also have some other writing projects planned that I really am excited for, so stay tuned for that. Whether the next thing I publish is an update to this or another project, hopefully it's not gonna take as long this time. Thank you for being patient though, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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